


Day 4: Stranded Scavengers

by GemmaRose



Series: Lost Light Fest 2018 [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, Blood Drinking, Cannibalism, Canon Compliant, Canonical Cannibalism, Canonical Character Death, Death Rituals, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gen, Religious Discussion, Robot cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 03:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16189604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: After the DJD leave, the Scavengers have a couple things to do before they can get headed back to the W.A.P.





	Day 4: Stranded Scavengers

“Boo hoo?” Fulcrum gave him a judgemental look. “I thought Flywheels was your _friend_! You’re just going to leave him here?”

“You’re right.” Misfire nodded solemnly. “What were we _thinking_? There’s probably enough for a sip of innermost energon each.”

“I’m having his rotor system.” Crankcase added, kneeling to heft up one of Flywheels’s legs into his lap.

“Leave the knees for me.” Spinister said quickly, crouching by the other leg and starting on the plating that protected the joint.

“Are you seriously-” Fulcrum started, then slapped both hands to his helm with a groan. “He was your _friend_!”

“And?” Misfire frowned up at the ex-bomb, rummaging in his subspace for an empty cube. “He’s dead, he doesn’t need his knees anymore.”

“Or his energon.” Crankcase added. “Innermost or not.”

“Truth.” Misfire found an empty, uncracked cube and pulled it out to mock toast his friend.

“I think I’m gonna purge.” Fulcrum mumbled, and Misfire watched him stagger away for a nano-klik before turning back to Flywheels’s legs with a shrug.

“He’s a weirdo.” Spinister said, methodically detaching the knee joint from struts and cables alike.

“He really is.” Misfire agreed, positioning the cube under what remained of Flywheels’s backstrut and sliding his hand in to find the thick energon lines that ran along it, pressing down on the soft tubes and pulling to coax the fuel out.

“Here, this oughtta help.” Crankcase said after a klik, shifting his grip on Flywheels’s leg and lifting it higher. Sure enough, the energon began to flow more freely from that side of the body, and Misfire caught as much as he could in the cube.

“Well, here’s to Flywheels.” he said when the flow of energon slowed far enough it was no longer worth the effort it’d take to get the rest out. “He died as he lived, being a fragging moron.” he lifted the cube for a nano-klik, then took a swig. It was gross, oily and half processed, but he’d had worse.

“To Flywheels.” said Crankcase solemnly when Misfire handed the cube over to him. “May he find peace and answers in the allspark.” he took a drink as well, making a face at the taste, and passed the cube to Spinister.

“To Flywheels.” the helicopter intoned, and downed the last of the fuel without further comment.

Misfire held out his hands, and Crankcase and Spinister rolled their optics but took them all the same. “We commend his spark to the allspark, where all sparks are one spark. We partake of his energon, and it is our energon. In this way, we are connected. ‘Til All Are One.”

“‘Til All Are One.” Crankcase and Spinister echoed, and with the end of the impromptu ‘service’ they released each other’s hands. Misfire got to his feet as the others went back to disassembling Flywheels’s corpse for parts, but didn’t get more than a few steps towards where he’d left Krok before Fulcrum was at his side.

“What was that?” the K-class ‘Con asked, brow pinched and field full of earnest confusion.

“What was what?” he asked back, and got a roll of optics.

“That, speech thing.” Fulcrum flapped a hand vaguely in the direction of Flywheels.

“The prayer?” Misfire raised an optic ridge. “It’s not exactly new.”

“I’ve been in stasis a while, remember?”

“Riiight.” he nodded, the pieces coming together. “And before that you were a techie, not a soldier.”

“Yeah, so, that??” Fulcrum gestured again, and Misfire clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“That, my friend, was a battlefield burial. Only type I know how to do.” he cracked a smile, and stooped to gather Krok’s limp frame into his arms. “C’mon, once they’re done with his legs I wanna get headed back to the W.A.P.”

“You’re not going to search the worldsweeper?”

“Not when it’d mean hauling everything we find back to the ship.” he shook his helm. “We’ll bring the ship here, _then_ loot it for all it’s worth.”

“Makes sense.” Fulcrum nodded. “And what about him?” he jabbed his impressive chin at Grimlock, who had sat down and was dragging his fingers through the dirt, mumbling to himself.

“If he could fight, I’m sure he can walk. Hey, Grimlock!” he raised his voice, and the Autobot looked up from the dirt.

“Me Grimlock.”

“Yeah. Wanna get inside? We’ve got a ship.” he shifted Krok to rest mostly on his shoulder and held out a hand. Only for a nano-klik though before he realised it was stained with Flywheels’s energon, and hurriedly wiped it off on his thigh. “You hearing me alright, big guy?”

“Me Grimlock hungry.” the Autobot pressed a hand to his chassis over his tanks, and Misfire nodded.

“Yeah, I bet. We’ve got energon, if you follow me.” he held out a hand, and this time Grimlock got to his feet, slow but not clumsy. Whatever processor damage he had, it didn’t seem to have affected his motor memory.

“You guys done?” he called over his shoulder, and got a pair of affirmatives from Spinister and Crankcase. “Great.” he smiled up at Grimlock, silently praying that this wasn’t going to be one of those decisions that came back around to bite him in the aft. “C’mon, Grimlock. Let’s go home.”

“Home.” Grimilock grunted, and when Misfire turned to head back to the W.A.P. heavy pedesteps followed him. This could easily be his worst decision to date, but he had a good feeling about it. Something told him having Grimlock on board would come in pretty dang handy, sooner or later.


End file.
